An opinion by TAYLOR IRWIN
All right, I’ll admit it; I was absolutely, completely, and infalliby consumed by the children’s book “Where The Wild Things Are” by Maurice Sendak growing up. So when the previews were first released for the movie, I was ecstatic. My mother also recently informed me that she had the book memorized when I was younger, and even knew when to turn the pages (without looking) because I would ask her to read it to me so often. It was a nightly occurrence, my mother would tuck me into my pink and yellow plaid comforter and we would squeeze together, with me taking up entirely too much room in my twin size bed as she broke open the worn out paperback favorite.
It’s commonly known that I’m always a bit wary when beloved books are turned into movies, seeing as the motion picture usually never meets up to my high expectations. Movies are hardly ever able to truly capture the scenes I create in my mind, so perfect for every book, and always leave me feeling disappointed afterward. I think many fellow readers can relate. “Where The Wild Things Are” was no exception.
I will be the first to admit that walking into the theater with fellow senior Cierra Marzett at my side, I was prepared for the worst. I was ready for my childhood favorite to be ruined for me; and to be honest, it kind of was. While the movie itself was entertaining, and obviously made for the audience of around age six, it still was lacking. The excitement that was built around the release of the movie wasn’t lived up to. The movie itself was for the most part, plotless, with dialogue clearly meant to entertain a kindergarten mind. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but the magic that was meant to accompany the film just wasn’t there. The youngsters (by comparison) in the audience disagreed with me, however. Squeals of laughter broke the usual movie theater silence, despite the warning to refrain from “adding your own soundtrack.”
Though I can’t deny that Cierra and I also broke out in smiles a few times ourselves; it was virtually impossible not to. Scenes appeared random and to not really belong in the movie, almost as if they had been added just in order to turn a 20 page children’s book into an hour and a half long movie.
Also, to my surprise, there were conversations and scenes in the movie where I questioned if a six year old should be watching. Its PG rating seemed to be stretching it’s boundaries at points; for example, and I’m not giving away anything here so feel free to continue reading, there was a scene where one “wild thing” literally ripped the arm off of another. It took me a second to comprehend that the event had actually occurred, but the occasional high-pitched yelp of a child confirmed what I’d seen. Scenes were dark and violent, and Carol, the main wild thing, had a serious anger management problem and his temper flared up more often than not. When it did, I would watch out because Carol had a scary violent streak, and even threatened to eat Max, though their apparent friendship instantly forgotten.
Besides all that, it was easy to fall in love with the characters, especially the “wild things.” So childlike and relatable with names like Carol (for a boy), it was hard not to love them. They all had personalities of their own, and as the personalities sometimes clashed, I found myself continuously rooting for the underdog. And of course, like in most children’s stories, all conflicts were resolved with an apology from one wild thing to another.
